


Still

by inkstrain (orphan_account)



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/inkstrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Aoi, Uruha can't move: stuck somewhere between breathing and breathless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still

Ruki has had enough. Between trying to get their recently formed band shows in live houses in an area as vast as Tokyo and deciding on the band's new look should they finally get booked - all while working part time here and there - he has no patience left to deal with member issues. He's the one in charge yes, has always been right from the start, but he's also the youngest for fuck's sake, so he shouldn't be the one telling his much older bandmates to stop acting immature right?

Anyway, the problem: Uruha doesn't like Aoi, and Aoi doesn't like Uruha back.

Not that either guitarist has said so aloud, but ever since everyone came together, there has always been a certain kind of... _tension_ between the two. And it doesn't help that Uruha refuses to talk to Aoi unless necessary, Aoi who has a habit of losing his temper over every little thing - like when lead gets this condescending smirk on his face every time rhythm does something wrong whether it's related to music or not. At first it had been funny to be honest, but not anymore.

Not when they're already on the brink of losing a drummer.

  


So one night after a grueling shift at the family restaurant he works in and unsuccesfully finding them a show for the weekend, with Uruha smirking his heart out and Aoi picking a fight, well, Ruki decides it's the best time to _just fucking lose it._ With a snarl, he shoves lead and rhythm into the nearest bedroom, slams the door shut, and then breaks the knob from the outside to lock the two within.

"Talk shit out!" He exclaims from the other side above Reita's whines of _the landlord is gonna fucking kill us why'd you break that Taka,_ seething and looking eerily monstrous even without his face painted or his strangely-colored contacts on. "This band isn't going to work if we don't fucking communicate!"

And it might or might not have been one of his better plans, he'll realize later on as he drags Reita out of the apartment to god-knows-where, but Ruki doesn't give a single fuck. This band is going to stick together, no matter what.

  


"Oi! Open this fucking door!"

"..."

"I said open it, god damn it!"

"..."

"If you don't fucking-"

  


"... shut _the fuck up_ Shiroyama."

  


Aoi whirls around at Uruha's words, breathing hard from the effort of shouting and pounding on the wooden thing separating bedroom and living room. It's dark where they are so he can't really see the other's face, but from his posture Uruha seems tense, leaning against the desk rigidly with his arms crossed, looking at him sideways. "You're so loud all the time and it's annoying."

And he bristles, of course, he always does. 

"What did you just fucking say?!" He spats out, but Uruha merely sighs as he examines his fingernails, nothing but a long-limbed silhouette in the dimness.

"So you're deaf now, you didn't hear me the first time?"

He slams a hand upon the wall surface where he knows the light switch is so he'll be able to see who he's going to hit properly, advancing forward with a menacing growl. 

"Look you-" 

But he pauses comically when nothing happens, the room still all vague black and white shapes, and he turns to glare at the switch, flicking it over and over. 

"What the hell?!"

There's an amused and derisive chuckle from Uruha that grates on Aoi's already fraying nerves. 

"Looks like _bonkura_ hasn't replaced the light bulb yet." 

It's only now that the other's starting to move, getting something from his pocket and the floor - cigarette pack and tin ashtray from the sound of it - as he puts the latter on the table. It's just a brief flicker when his lighter ignites, an orange burst of color that illuminates the younger's face when he lifts his hands to light a cigarette, and Aoi isn't sure if he's seeing it correctly, but is Uruha _trembling?_

"All good though, we don't have to see each other's faces." 

Lead guitar takes a sharp inhale of smoke after adding his next words like an afterthought, exhaling vapor in one smooth breath, and the tip of his cigar quivers between index and middle finger, the tremor passing from his hand to the nicotine stick. So Aoi's not imagining it then, and his anger dissipates into genuine concern. He's _big brother_ after all whether he likes it or not, the eldest of the bunch and the one ultimately responsible for them, so he can't help it.

"Hey." He tilts his head to the side a little and watches his co-guitarist carefully, noting that he hasn't relaxed even with the Marlboro on his lips, usually the taller man's way of soothing his nerves. "Are you okay? You're shaking." 

And Aoi is mystified and worried and just _enthralled,_ because Uruha isn't someone who shows much emotion-wise, his control over his feelings impeccable. Even when expressing himself, his smirks are mild and his laughter quiet, his smiles reserved and his anger mostly silent, the complete opposite of... _this._

"M'fine."

The shaking has traveled faster than Aoi could have expected it to, making Uruha's voice waver in a way he has never heard it before. And his concern simply grows as he steps forward, eyes narrowed and arms reaching. 

"Seriously Uru-"

_"I said I'm fine!"_

Uruha's cigarette breaks in half, falling to the floor and smoldering for a bit before dying a slow death. And as it does, the darkness in Reita's bedroom seems heavier, lead guitarist's breaths harsh and quick and _Aoi doesn't understand._

"I don't know why you hate me so much."

  


Uruha turns away at the question, and now more than ever can he not stop his limbs quaking. Keeping his eyes from drifting over Aoi across the room, he tries to but he's unable: being so close to Aoi like this, and he finds that he can't breathe normally, lungs dysfunctional thinking he needs more air as if he had been running. 

_But haven't you? You've been running away from_ him _for the longest time._

And perhaps that's what he's been doing, not wanting to stay too close whenever Aoi's burning his brightest, the older man so dazzling as he gets lost in his anger and his music and... everything else really. And it's so difficult to hold back, to _not_ want during moments when Aoi seems to incinerate, Uruha desperately craving his warmth and wishing it could be all his. 

  


"I don't hate you." 

He senses more than sees Aoi's surprise the moment he says these words, but he still doesn't look, eyes watching the dark stay a permanent stretch of gray and black. Swallowing in preparation to speak further, Uruha wonders where to begin and what words to use, but he has never been good with them. So he does what he does best, remains silent and closed. _Safe._

"The opposite then?" Aoi closes the distance between them with two easy strides, his tone slightly mocking as he speaks. "You can't say you love me either, can you?" Uruha has to resist the urge to flinch with the other so close, keeps his mouth firmly shut, not that it matters since Aoi's still talking. "Or maybe this is your way to keep me close, interested. Getting me riled up all the time, huh?"

There's a teasing lilt to the rhythm guitarist's tone that Uruha completely misses, his heart galloping in his chest and making him dizzy - and if only he had listened closely, his answer wouldn't have been what he says next, just a step away from confessing.

"Is it working?"

"Wait, what...?"

He huffs out an exasperated but bitter laugh, still looking elsewhere in the dimness, shaking his head. "It's like kindergarten right?" Uruha semi-whispers, running a hand through his hair. "The harder I tug on your pigtails to annoy you, the more I make sure you don't see anyone else but me."

There's long pause after that before Aoi is sighing deeply and settling right beside him on the edge of the desk, their shoulders and arms touching. For a while, they remain unspeaking before-

"It's a fleeting thing Uruha, whatever it is you think you're _feeling_ for me." Aoi says softly and gently, nudging at him slightly with an elbow. "You're young."

He snorts. "You're not _that_ old."

The elder one shrugs his shoulders and relaxes on his perch, a grin reflected on his words. "Definitely much older than you." He points out, before he's turning to face him completely with another, much heavier sigh. "Listen..."

But he shakes his head and turns as well, looking straight at Aoi this time although it's still hard to make out expressions in the dark, so he laces his voice with his emotions instead, hoping they come through. 

"Be quiet and let me kiss you."

And rhythm guitar laughs after a beat, opening his arms as if welcoming him into them, the smirk in his voice touchable as he shakes his head in resignation. "Come on then, if you're sure, I'm pretty tired of arguing anyway. It's time we did something else."

And Uruha aches at how easily Aoi has given in to him, but it's not surprising. The rhythm guitarist has always been a little loose, and he has watched him pick up and get picked up during their many lives, bed-hopping with boys and girls and in-betweens because that's what he's good at: sharing his fire, spreading his heat. 

He promises himself though - if he can, he'll make sure Aoi doesn't end up in anyone else's bed but his starting from now. Or actually... they have to deal with Reita's for the time being since they're stuck here. 

And he seals that promise with a kiss he'd been dying to steal from those full lips, not even thinking about how the two of them went from biting each other's head off, to screwing in his bestfriend's room.

  


"What are you doing?"

He looks up to gaze at Aoi's face at the question, hovering over him with their clothes in a pile on the floor. He has been trying to see what he can of the elder's skin, wanting to memorize his planes of flesh. He shakes his head. 

"I can't see you properly."

Aoi laughs at his words, pulling him down and wrapping his legs around his waist, arms around his neck and fingers clawing gently at his scalp. 

"But you can feel me, Uruha." 

His whisper is hoarse, kiss-swollen lips touching his earlobe as he arches his entire body upwards from his toes to his legs, his thighs, his torso and his chest, a sensual half-curl to emphasize the way they're touching nearly everywhere.

Uruha groans, cock hard and leaking between his legs as Aoi starts rubbing up against him, and when their lips meet again for the nth time, he doesn't stop kissing the rhythm guitarist for a very long time. 

  


_Right there!_ Breaths like fire. 

_Here?_

_Mmm yes... harder._ Body likes flames.

_Fuck, Aoi I'm-_

_Yes Uruha, yes!_ His hell in heaven. 

  


In the next moment, they break, Uruha consumed by the inferno that makes Aoi burn, and he can't take it, can't hold it in. In the semi-dark of Reita's bedroom as he fucks his bandmate into oblivion, Uruha swears he can see his life unfolding in the way Aoi gasps and moans into his thrusts. It's what pushes him into his own orgasm, and fisting the rhythm guitarist's cock in his hand, he drives both of them over the edge of that metamorphical cliff.

And it's when everything stops and goes still.

  


Aoi's upper body arches beneath him like an offering (gasping _take me, fuck take it all)_ as he comes between them with Uruha's lips breathing vibrant breaths into his lungs, their mouths half open and just barely touching in this moment of suspension. Uruha has never seen a more beautiful thing, and although he hasn't realized it yet, his heart has already seared it across the insides of his very ribs, urged by this strong desire to prove that Aoi's wrong, that this isn't temporary, that this is so much more, that one day when Aoi least expects it-

  


_You're going to **(fucking)** love me._


End file.
